The Journal
by Mizuhana Uchiha
Summary: A story written in Sasuke's point of view about his time as a teenager, up to the point as a young adult where he faces near death due to his struggles. Drama/Romace


…Whew… Here we go.

This is the story, written in my perspective, of how I came to near death by my own hands.

It all started out in my house, simply sitting there, playing a video game, when tragedy struck.

"You've killed us all, and I'm the last one left! I will never forgive you... I will avenge us..." I said angrily.

"Like you could ever beat me at anything," Itachi replied in his usual cool manner.

"Sasuke, you wouldn't do that to your brother, now would you?" Said Naruto with a small shake in his voice, trying to change my mind.

"It's my choice to do this," I then retorted.

A few glares were exchanged around the room, and I pressed the button. The handles of Itachi's controller shook and his player was dead. Humorous glances were tossed back and forth between Naruto and I.

"You idiot! You killed me!" Itachi shouted, his face contorted with game rage.

"Well, my gamer tag IS TheAvenger17... maybe you shouldn't have confirmed all of the deaths of my teammates, huh?" I snapped back, already switching to the next map.

"You're such a useless brother. You're supposed to side with me even when I maul your team!" Itachi growled out. The next few seconds happened quickly as he threw the controller against the ground. As it collided with the carpet, the left control stick flew out and landed nearby. The rest of the controller, however, was now cracked straight in the middle.

I lowered my head to the floor and stared at my brand new wireless controller, garnished with gold sides and start button, which was now broken. Naruto then backed off slowly and exited my home.

"What's going on in here?" A voice said. The voice was deep, but sounded similar to mine and Itachi's.

"Dad, Itachi broke my brand new controller!" I angrily told my father.

Only with a simple point to the stairs across the hall, my older brother was heading to his room. Another point was transmitted, and I followed shortly after, trodding up the stairs to my room. Upon entering, I looked around at the usual scenery I had seen since last month.

Being a teenager is easy for me, Sasuke Uchiha. I'm in my junior year in high school, with a car and a girlfriend, whom I despise. She loves me, however, even if I try to swing her off of my tail all the time. People had only figured it would be right to date her, because we seemed 'perfect'. However, I see no perfection in this girl, only fakeness and makeup.

My life is nearly perfect. I am the most popular boy in my school, I own my own car and a job. I have amazing grades, amazing parents, amazing pastimes, and amazing friends. Through all of those amazing friends, however, there was no one who ever really wanted to get to _know_ me.  
>Personally.<p>

They were all too busy looking at my family, my grades, the people I hang out with, and my looks. If I were to ask one of my 'closest' friends what my favorite color, food, and movie were, they wouldn't have a single clue on how to answer. There's an exception with Naruto though, since we've known each other since we were small children.

I was thinking about all of this as I sat there lying on my bed. My eyebrows twitched as I switched between subjects of things to think about, my mind was working rapidly. My girlfriend had always said it was cute when I was thinking, because she loves to watch my eyebrows move. How strange.

The color of them match my hair, black. My hair is strange as well, it is always placed (as some girls say, attractively) in the shape of a duck-butt, which is what Itachi calls me at random intervals.

Then there are my eyes. There are black as well, supposed to portray no color to anyone that sees them. To me, they are the most important aspect of myself, since they always seem to have a colored tint. No one else sees it, but I see the atmosphere change in color whenever my mood changes. It definitely wasn't noticeable when I was younger, but in my high school years so far, I've definitely noticed. Whenever I'm mad, it's like I'm wearing red sunglasses. Whenever I'm sad, it's like blue sunglasses. It's very subtle, but important to me.

I then sit up and look out the window, changing the subject to the best way to dump my girlfriend. I sit there smirking and filing up devious plans to make it through without her getting too mad, or me overexerting myself. At that mention, I chuckle softly to myself. I sound like Shikamaru, I thought.

There, I realized something. I sprang up and looked over at my desk to see if it was still there. The journal sat square in the middle of my desk, the pen placed on top of it, just how it was left there a few days ago. I remember what had happened pretty clearly:

"Sasuke, I've been noticing some strange behavior with you. You seem to be thinking more, and I want to let you know I have the same problem." Said Shikamaru, his hands in his pockets casually.

"Is that so?" I replied, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, and I have a perfect way to fix it," He said, handing me the same journal spoken before. "You can fill your thoughts with this, so your mind won't get so cluttered."

I took it without a word from my mouth, only a nod and a slight shrug. We had walked away from each other in a mutual understanding that that was all he had to say about the subject.

That was pretty much how I remembered it, and the journal still seemed to be there. Earlier yesterday, I had decided that I would write about different people in my life, and how they affected myself. This way, I could remember everything in detail without having to look back through my mind to remember a person.

Taking the pen in hand and sitting in the chair in front of my desk, I stare at the journal. Its leather covering is black, just how it should be. I haven't been a 'black' sort of person, but it seems to really suit me.

Then and there, I open the cover. Inside is paper that seems thin enough to hold hundreds of pages, but I wasn't sure I would be able to write on it. For a tester, I decided to make a profile about myself, as I would do the same for every other person in my life.

Name: Sasuke Uchiha  
>Hair: Black<br>Eyes: Black, sometimes other colors  
>Age: 17<br>Height: 6'  
>Importance in my life: I'm myself, so I guess I'm important to myself.<br>Personality: I'm pretty sure everyone likes me because of the things to look at, not the things they can't see. My personality hasn't really shown much..  
>Death: Not happened<p>

I wrote this down in a neat, clear font, in case I were to use this in a much later time in my life. This would be so I could understand my handwriting.

There was a knock on the door, so I quickly threw the journal towards my bed and jumped on it to cover it up. At the door frame stood Itachi, staring back at me suspiciously. He merely rolled his eyes and stepped into my room.

"What are you doing in here?" I said, glaring. I was still mad about the controller...

"I wanted to tell you to not be such a girl about the controller." He sneered, crossing his arms and taking another step closer. I only sat up and glared more intensely at him, trying to scare him out of my room.

"Also," He said, seeming not to care about my plan to glare him out. "You need to stay in your room for tonight, no one's going to be home."

"Why would I leave my room? I have homework."

"Well, you might need food or something."

"I already ate, Itachi."

"Fine, just making sure." He said, backing out of the room and shutting the door. I sat there staring at the place he had left from with sadness, I couldn't believe my brother was going out with his 'friends' again.

Itachi had always seemed perfect to me; he had perfect hair, perfect education, more perfect than I in every way. Even with all that, I looked up to him in such a way no one would understand, not even my parents. That is, until I found out he had some new _friends_ from a gang. It was after he graduated college that he had apparently 'joined' this supposed gang. Shortly after that, I found out what had happened. One night, he came home drunk and all drugged up with a bunch of those friends. My parents weren't home, so I bet he felt that he would be safe from getting in trouble with my parents, even with me there.

All they had to do was convince me to not tattle on them, and they would be perfectly safe, right?

Right.

That's what they did.


End file.
